


Friday Nights With Greg

by Ladderofyears



Series: Rare Pair Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Backgroud Drarry, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Demisexuality, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Movie Night, Redeemed Dudley Dursley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 22:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20749547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Dudley Dursley's lonely life started to change when he met Greg Goyle at his cousin's wedding. Now every Friday is a movie night filled with pizza, beer and laughter. He'd like it to be more, but that could never happened, could it? After all, he's just a boring muggle, and Greg is awizard.But perhaps, just perhaps, Greg finds Dudley more fascinating than he'd ever imagined.My first fic for the 2019 Rare Pair Bingo!





	Friday Nights With Greg

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xslytherclawx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xslytherclawx/gifts).

> Thank you to the lovely xslytherclawx who has given me such fabulous prompts. 
> 
> This is based on the prompt: character A invites character B over for a movie marathon. Friends to lovers. Please include lots of cuddling.

Thank _fuck_ it was Friday. 

Friday meant the end of the working week, and two days without the arse that was his hour long commute into work. Friday meant two days without the gormless prats that Smeltings Academy consistently employed as teachers, and most importantly, Friday always meant Dudley’s three favourite things: pizza, movies and chilling out with Greg on the settee beside him. 

Greg bloody loved movies. It was daft really, Dudley thought, easing his car into the tight space beside his terrace. _Jurassic Park. Max Max_. Even ruddy _Jumanji_. Greg loved them all. He’d beg to watch his favourites over and over, memorising the dopey lines, and scoffing when Dudley pulled a face at the awful jokes or the crappy special effects. 

And Dudley wouldn’t ever have admitted it aloud, but Greg’s enthusiasm was infectious. 

Dudley found himself seeing the films anew, not caring that the dialogue was cheesy or the story laughable. Dudley found himself enjoying them in a ways he’d have never let himself on the first viewing The pair of them had even watched fucking _Twilight_ the other week, the two of them sniggering at the idea of the twinkling brooding vampires. 

“Nah mate,” Greg had said, swallowing the last of his beer, “a real vampire doesn’t sparkle. Shiny Edward there wouldn’t last ten minutes in the vampire nest off Knockturn. They’d murder him for that miserable face alone.”

During the first few months of their firendship, Dudley had avoided films like _Twilight_. That movie had vampires in, and werewolves too. Magical stuff. _The Wizard of Oz. The Sword in the Stone_. He’d dumped those too. Dudley hadn’t wanted to show Greg something he’d find boring or worse, offensive. After all, what did he know about Greg’s real world? For all Dudley knew, his best mate did spend all week wearing a pointed hat and dancing down a yellow brick road. 

But in the end, Dudley realised that he’d been worrying unnecessarily. One Friday, Greg had found his copy of _Lord of the Rings_ hidden under the settee, and demanded they watch it immediately. Dudley had cringed, thinking that Greg would be horrified at the dragons, the magic and the wizards, but the opposite had been true.

Greg had adored every minute

“Bloody hell,” Greg had laughed, gesticulating at the telly with nacho-dusty orange fingers. “That sodding Gandalf. _Merlin_. There was somebody working on that film who went to Hogwarts because he was the image of my old headteacher. Same flowing beard. Same nonsensical garbage flowing out of his mouth at every opportunity. Loved it matey. Bloody _loved_ it.” 

That was the thing, Dudley thought, as he stripped off his coat, and threw his work backpack in the cupboard under the stairs. Greg was easy company, and Dudley could be himself on these Fridays in a way he couldn’t with anyone else in his life. _Certainly_ not his flaming dad. Dudley shook his head, and tried to put his thoughts about Vernon Dursley away. Ever since mum had passed on, the old man’s moods had been increasingly hard to manage, and the grizzly git certainly wasn’t slow with his criticism. He couldn’t abide the fact that Dudley wasn’t a great leader of industry or some other such bollocks. 

Dudley didn’t care, not really. He really enjoyed working as a IT Techie at Smeltings, his old school. The kids were sweet, even if some of the teachers could be slightly moronic occasionally. 

Bizarrely, Greg seemed to enjoy hearing Dudley gossip about the job, even the boring, trivial stuff that other people found dull. “You can find out everything on this _in-ter-net_ then? Every fact in the world?” Greg had said the week before, his eyes wide in surprise and delight. “You muggles are bloody amazing. I mean, magic’s all well and good but you lot have managed to get by perfectly well without it. The stuff I used to hear at school… Duds, you wouldn’t believe the nonsense the other kids used to spout. My parents too. And I used to suck it all in, believe every word. _Salazar_. The reality is certainly a bit different.” 

Dudley had felt a touch of stupid misplaced pride, as if he’d invented the internet or something. 

He felt his cheeks flushing pink, so he’d looked away quickly, pretending to focus on the back of a DVD. “Well, you lot aren't too bad either,” he replied in a quiet, careful voice. “Grew up thinking magical folk were a _right_ bunch of weirdos. Thought you spent all your days chanting under the moon in the buff or something.”

“Only on Thursdays,” Greg had replied, with a straight face. “That was our moon chanting day. Spent the rest of the time wanking, eating and sleeping.”

And it wasn’t until the next day that Dudley realised that Greg been joking. 

~@~

By the time that they’d finished _Avatar_, the pizza was long gone, and a well-known comfy feeling had started to sink into Dudley’s bones. 

It had been a long week, but he wasn’t really tired yet. Beside him, Greg’s eager commentary had slowed to the occasional exclamation as the film had neared the end and Dudley wondered if his best mate felt tired. He’d asked Greg to tell him about his life on Diagon Alley a few times, but Greg hadn’t seemed to want to, not really. He’d always deflect the subject back onto Dudley. 

“It’s boring, matey,” Greg had said, delving deep to find the last kernels of popcorn out of the tub beside him. “Same old shit everyday… Goblins telling me the odds. Rich old bastards wanting their Vaults counted. Checking wands in at the door. Tell me more about _your_ job though, D… What were you telling me about _spr-ead-shee-ts_ before-” 

For the life of him, Dudley hadn’t understood how Greg could find him so interesting. 

Greg’s life sounded fascinating to Dudley. His best-mate worked at a bank- _Grinchgrabs_, or _Gringotts_, the place was named, or something like that- with Goblins, and Galleons, and Vaults. It was all so fantastical, really, like something out of a kid’s bloody storybook. If it hadn’t been for Harry, Dudley couldn’t have credited any of it as the truth. But it was true, and that was the world that Greg lived within. 

That was the long and short of it. Gregory Goyle, his best-mate was a ruddy _wizard_, and he even carried a bloody _wand_ tucked into his back pocket. Dudley had seen him use it once, to reheat a slice of pizza. There’d been a green glowing light and everything. 

“Good film, Duds,” Greg said beside him, with a long yawn, pulling Dudley away from his tangle of thoughts. “Liked them gigantic blue creatures. Reminded me of pixies. Ugh, awful ruddy creatures…”

Dudley didn’t reply straight away. After a couple of movies, a couple of beers and half a carb-loaded pizza his mind always slowed down a little bit. It was quite pleasant, really, the hypnotic slow sensation that always accompanied Friday nights with Greg. In truth, Dudley couldn’t remember another person he’d ever felt this relaxed with. 

Greg’s yawns were catching and Dudley stood, stretching to wake his arms and legs up. 

“What d’you fancy next?” Dudley asked, pulling out a couple of DVDs. “_The Hobbit? Infinity War_ again?” 

“_Infinity War_,” Greg answered, clicking his fingers in a scarily accurate impression of Thanos,“ and then we can watch _Endgame_ afterwards. That’s if you’re up for it, big man-” Greg shifted his position on the settee to sit upright, having spent the last hour slouched over the arm. 

Dudley grinned, feeding the DVD into his player. 

He ambled back to the settee, and sat back down heavily next to his friend. Dudley wasn’t comfortable with most people, not really, but he’d never felt awkward near Greg. Their upper arms brushed against each other as they sat, casual and easy. “Not tired at all, mate,” Dudley said, pressing play on his remote, “just relaxed. It’ll be the morning by the time that one’s done. What’d you reckon? Trip to the pub for a full English? My treat.”

“Always,” Greg replied, patting his belly fondly. His appetite for fried bread and sausages was legendary between the pair of them. “Except I think it’s my turn, D. Think I should take you back to my neck of the woods, take you to the Leaky for breakfast. Fucking _delicious_.” Greg snorted, blowing a kiss on his fingers before turning his head to look in Dudley’s direction. “I’ll tell the landlord that you’re Harry Potter’s bloody cousin. Bet we’d get it on the house.”

“Terrible idea,” Dudley said, cracking open a beer. “Not magical like you, am I? ‘Spect you need a wand for every ruddy thing… And I don’t have any of your fiddly money. And you'd have to explain who I was, if we saw any of your wizardy mates-”

“You don’t need a wand,” muttered Greg, giving Dudley’s upper arm a friendly punch with just enough force to sting, “plenty of Squibs can’t use one and _they_ get by alright. No reason you couldn’t do just as well as them... I reckon you should let me take you round Diagon, show you the sights. Show you my place. _Introduce_ you to my wizardy mates. It’d be a right laugh.”

“You don’t need me trailing after you.” Dudley fussed with the screen settings on the DVD, surprised at how strong his feelings were about Greg’s innocent suggestion. Meet his friends? See his flat? Dudley hadn’t ever allowed his thoughts to drift in the direction of seeing Greg outside of their Friday movie marathons. He’d never brought it up, fearful that his mate might be embarrassed by his ungainly muggle nature; his fearsome, bland ordinariness. 

“I wouldn’t mind looking after you though,” Greg replied in a mild voice. “My mates would like you. Find your job as interesting as I do.”

“Nah. You’re the only bloke mad enough to be interested in bloody databases, Greg.”

“Your loss,” Greg smirked, sliding down in his chair. “Until you see sense, I’m just going to be here, watching the Avengers. You’re missing out though, matey: The Leaky serves Butterbeer with breakfast, and I just know you’d bloody love it.”

Dudley didn’t reply. The idea was certainly had an appeal. He grinned, knocking shoulders against Greg’s own, and tried to focus on the screen in front of him. The busy opening sequence finished and the flickering images began to lure the pair of them back to a state of languid hypnosis. 

That was why there were both there, Dudley thought wryly to himself. To eat junk food, watch rubbish movies and just enjoy each others company. A space to chill and relax that was outside of the rest of their lives. 

It wasn’t as if either of them needed anything else, was it? 

~@~

_Infinity War_ wasn’t even half way through when Greg finally fell asleep. 

Dudley watched his mate battle valiantly, watched Greg’s mouth slowly going slack, and his eyes shutter closed. His head bobbed forward two, three times only to be jerked backwards as he startled himself awake.

After this had happened several times, Greg succumbed to his fatigue and lay back, surrendering to exhaution. Greg’s breathing slowed to a regular rumble and Dudley held himself very still, hardly daring to breath himself. He didn’t want to rouse his friend. 

After only a minute, Dudley felt his mate relax entirely against his side; a yielding, warm and fast asleep presence. This wasn't the first time that his mate had fell asleep beside him, not by a long shot. Drifting off for a couple of hours was Greg’s regular habit during their Friday movie nights, and happened as regularly as clockwork. 

Greg was the closest that Dudley had ever allowed himself to get to any other person. 

He’d spent years avoiding friendship and intimacy; his few friends at school had been lackeys and sycophants rather than the real mates he’d watched the other boys happily acquire. Dudley had been that stereotypical bully, relentlessly driven to cause fear and loathing amongst the other schoolchildren, just in case they ever saw even a sliver of vulnerability. Dudley had loved his parents, but they’d spoiled him, ruined him for other people. Filled his head with expectations that he’d never truly be able to fill, not if he lived a thousand lifetimes. 

Then Dudley had met Greg. Met him at Harry’s wedding, of all places. 

His bloody cousin. Dudley had so _hated_ him growing up. He’d been jealous of his innate goodness and kindness. It had radiated out of him like a beacon, shining brightly on everyone around him. Dudley had always felt shabby and so utterly mediocre in Harry's presence. 

And on his wedding day Harry had _shone_. As the day had passed, Dudley had seen how much his cousin was admired, seen just how much his friends cared about him. Harry had married some man with an odd-sounding French name; a man with the most astonishing blond hair that Dudley had ever seen. The man had gazed at Harry with rapt adoration, and Dudley had felt his stomach twist in familiar jealousy once again. A love like that wasn’t for the likes of mundane, ordinary _muggles_ like himself. 

Greg had been at the reception, dressed in an ill-fitting suit. The two of them had been placed beside each other on a table, part of a collection of inconvenient singletons that Harry and his new husband hadn’t seemed to know where else to seat. Dudley has felt uncomfortable and exposed, the proverbial fish-out-of-water amongst all those magical folk, and Greg must have noticed. He had fired a thousand questions at Dudley over their swish Salmon starter and had never once seemed even the slightest bit bored. 

And for Dudley, who was used to the eyes of strangers sliding over him in sheer boredom, it was a revelation.

The whole wedding reception, an event that Dudley had dreaded for months, passed by in a blur of laughter. Greg told funny stories about the two grooms, and how much they’d loathed each other at school. He’d talked about _Quidditch_, which was something to do with brooms. 

But the best part had been a drinking game they’d played during the speeches. 

For every teary-eyed confession of adoration Greg and Dudley had drank a shot of something called _Firewhisky_. Well, Dudley hadn’t ever heard of that brand before but it’d tasted like pure-fucking-magic, and as the speeches had dragged on, and the two grooms had became ever more sickeningly romantic, Greg and Dudley had got steadily more pissed. 

That had been two years ago now, and the two of them had met pretty much every Friday since. Dudley hadn’t known how to contact Greg, but the daft git had sent a bloody _owl_ to come knocking on his window, some great grey beast with a note wrapped around his leg. Dudley had nearly died on the spot, mostly because he was bloody terrified of the thing. 

It was funny the stuff you could get used to, Dudley mused. He was actually pretty fond of that sodding bird now. 

_ _~@~ _ _

Dudley shifted himself carefully, not wanting to wake Greg. He looked down at his friend, the coloured light from the telly painting his relaxed face in a thousand shifting hues and shades. 

Greg’s mouth was half open as he breathed slowly. It seemed to Dudley that the colours lit up Greg, making him look more like a work of art than a person. The soft lines of his cheeks, and the smattering of stubble on his jaw. The edges of his full, heavy lips. His mop of sandy brown hair, that always seemed to need a trim. Really, Dudley thought, he shouldn’t be staring like he was… 

_ _But somehow, he couldn’t seem to help it. _ _

Dudley’s eyes were drawn to Greg every time he fell asleep like he had. He looked luminescent. _Beautiful_ even. Greg moved a little as Dudley watched him, cuddling a little closer and making a soft, sighing noise. Greg was curled up close to his torso, warm and steady. 

_ _And all the while, Dudley’s mind flicked back to their conversation earlier. Greg had talked about wanting him to come to Diagon Alley, to meet his friends and visit his home. Dudley was surprised with how much he liked the idea, and how much he wished he could share more of Greg’s world. _ _

Beside Greg, Dudley felt happy, satisfied, and entirely more real than he did in any other part of his life. Dudley didn’t know if that meant he was gay, because he didn’t really care for other men, or find them particularly attractive. He’d only ever thought this way about Greg. His father had been characteristically venomous and short-sighted about gay people but Dudley was trying his hardest to be a better man than he’d been brought up to be. Trying his hardest to lose the bigotry that had been pounded into him like a thousand sharp nails. 

Did he have a _crush_ on Greg? Dudley supposed that he must do, although he wasn’t the most in-tune with his emotions. 

Dudley really loved making Greg happy, finding new films for him to watch, and making him snigger with his terrible film-star impressions. Greg always looked amazing when he laughed, and there was nothing Dudley liked better than ringing the sound of laughter from his friend’s lips. Dudley liked sharing the small details of his day with Greg and liked making him foods that he knew he’d enjoy. 

But what was the point in dwelling on something that couldn’t ever be? 

The two of them lived in different worlds, and Dudley just didn’t see how Greg and he could ever work. Dudley shook his head, and tried to refocus on the superheroes waging war on the screen just meters in front of him. Fridays with Greg. 

That was all that- _ordinary, boring, muggle_\- people such as him should expect, Dudley thought. Really, he was lucky to have that much- 

“Bloody hell” Greg muttered, shifting and waking beside Dudley, and pushing himself upwards into an upright position. He yawned, and looked at Dudley, rubbing his eyes. “How long have I been out for? It’s true what people say about body heat! You’re far too comfy, Duds. I was well under just then. I was dreaming!… Mate, you alright?” 

Greg’s voice, always posh in comparison to Dudley’s own, was deeper when he was sleepy. Dudley felt the words more than hearing them, slow and sweet in his ears. Worse, Dudley could feel how flushed his whole face was. He was red, unbelievably red, from the tips of his hair to well beneath his tee-shirt. He was awkward and ridiculous, and even worse, completely aroused. 

“Yeah,” mumbled Dudley, jerking out of the settee and trying to wriggle away from the mortification of Greg’s close proximity. “You weren't asleep long. You want a beer? Something else to eat?” He was acting oddly, clumsily and Dudley could tell he’d dumbfounded his friend. Upset him for no reason. 

“Dudley, stop.” Greg said, his hand grabbing Dudley’s forearm. “What’s upset you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, and I know how fucking unpleasant that is because I used to sleep in a bloody dungeon with one!” 

“No… Fuck. You wouldn’t understand!” Dudley couldn’t explain his thoughts, not in a way that Greg would understand. Not in a way that wouldn’t have him snapping his fingers and disappearing into nothingness (and he’d seen Greg do that! It was another bloody magical thing apparently. Another thing that Dudley knew he would never experience.) 

“Try me,” Greg hissed. “I fall asleep and I wake up to you looking like you’ve been bloody hexed. You can’t shake me off quick enough. Take a breath and tell me-” 

“I was just… thinking. _Thinking_, while you were asleep… The thoughts took me over a bit. Thought about our first meeting at Harry’s wedding. Thought about our Fridays… And I dunno how to say what I want to say without sounding soft in the ruddy head-” 

“That you like them?” Greg said, his brown eyes wide in his freckled face. “Our Fridays? And they’re the highlight of your week… Because they are for me, D. They are for me.”

Dudley watched, his mind whirring, as his best-mate seized both of his hands and pulled him back down on the settee. “Because _seeing_ you, Duds. _Talking_ to you. That’s the best part of my life. I swear to bloody Merlin.” 

And then Greg had smiled, and he’d kissed Dudley hard. 

~@~ 

Dudley fell back against the sofa in utter shock, and immediately regretted his action. Greg, his funny, fascinating (and beautiful) best mate had been kissing him, and he’d stopped him. 

“You didn’t want me to kiss you?” Greg asked, his face soft with concern. “I know I’m your best-mate, but I sort of got the impression that we could be more?” 

“More?” croaked Dudley, his eyes flicking back down to Greg’s mouth. “We could be more? I think… I think I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” 

He leant back in, meeting Greg’s lips halfway and then they were kissing again. It was as soft, heated and as intimate as anything Dudley could ever have dreamt of. 

Greg was a wonderful kisser, his lips pliable and tender beneath Dudley’s own and he sighed, opening his lips and deepening their kiss. It was like a movie star’s kiss, but much, _much_ better because Dudley was kissing Greg, the boy he thought more of than anyone else in the whole world. 

~@~ 

“And I just thought,” Greg murmured, his arms wrapped firmly around Dudley’s middle as _Endgame_ came to its final tragic close, “I’m your best-mate. We already get along great. So maybe we could make something more of it… I just don’t have as much in common with anybody else, Dudley. Face it: we’re fated to be together.” 

“But what about the magic?” Dudley asked, suddenly uncertain. He lifted his head off Greg’s shoulder and found his eyes. “I’m nothing special. I’m an IT technician at a crappy school… Not a bloody wizard. Not like you." 

Greg leaned over and pressed a small kiss against Dudley’s cheek. “I know that and I think it’s great. I’m nothing special, Duds. Worst grades in my House, failed my OWLs. Never had much in the way of real friends at school. Magic isn’t amazing when it’s all you’ve ever known. But when I’m here, with you. Watching films and eating pizza… Talking about your job. That’s when my life feels exceptional.” 

“So this is really a thing?” Dudley asked, sliding his body forward to press their lips together for a brief moment. His mind was swirling with thoughts and imaginings of what their future might look like. Dudley had never officially dated anyone in his life before so he had nothing to compare it to. 

“Certainly is, matey. We can hang out, eat junk food, watch rubbish films at till ridiculous o’clock in the morning. Same old, same old. Only difference is, Duds, we have to see each other more than just Fridays, ‘cause I can’t wait till then to do this,” Greg reasoned, dipping his head down for another kiss, and holding it for longer this time. 

Dudley felt his body melt entirely into the kiss. 

Dudley _wasn’t_ magical, and he never would be, but when he was with Greg he thought he could feel the thrum of it within his heart. Even if it was only for a moment. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading xxx


End file.
